


Understanding

by Laurielove



Category: Victoria (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Older Man/Younger Woman, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-02
Updated: 2017-09-02
Packaged: 2018-12-23 02:29:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11980173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laurielove/pseuds/Laurielove
Summary: Dismayed at the news of her second pregnancy and finding her life stifling, Victoria decides to visit someone from her past.A one-shot based on the images released for S2 Ep2, published before its airing. Speculative, bit of wishful thinking, but realistic too. What could possibly be inside that glasshouse?





	Understanding

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this incredibly quickly today. Forgive any crapness.

They had argued. Again. He had commented on her use of an incorrect term to describe the clouds and she had thrown a paintbrush at him. It was coated in red paint which had splattered against his yellow waistcoat.

Only two days earlier she had revealed to him that she was with child again. Again. Only a few months after giving birth to Vicky. It had dismayed her so profoundly she had thrown herself onto her bed for an hour and wailed. Nobody had tried to calm or reassure her. They knew to leave well alone.

Albert had gone out riding and she felt her soul surge in around her, her world close in. She paced the corridors, she drew in deep gasping breaths, but it brought her no relief. From her bedroom, she could hear Vicky crying along the corridor. She glanced at the rattles and toys lying beside the bed. Victoria threw her hands up to her head, squeezed her eyes shut and screamed, a long silent scream only she heard.

She needed to get out, she needed to escape, and if she didn’t do it now she feared she would go mad.

Summoning her dresser, she hastily put on her pale mauve day dress and green embroidered coat. She looked at herself in the mirror. Despite her rage, she thought she looked pretty. The colours suited her.

‘Bonnet?’ she queried.

‘Yes, Ma’am.’ The dresser brought her over one to match the coat. She placed it on her head. ‘I think a little rouge today.’

‘Ma’am?’

‘Just a little. I do not want to seem pale.’

‘Do you have plans, Ma’am?’

‘Yes. I’m going to visit an old friend.’

Victoria hurried downstairs. The first person she happened upon was Lord Alfred. He would do perfectly well. ‘Lord Alfred, will you accompany me on a venture?’

‘Your Majesty? I would be delighted. Where do you intend to go? The Long Walk? A trip to Eton?’

‘I wish to go to Brocket Hall.’

She detected the surprise in Alfred’s response, the shock even, but she didn’t acknowledge it. She lowered her head and focused on tugging on her white gloves.

‘Brocket Hall, Ma’am? That is where Lord Melbourne lives.’

‘I’m fully aware of who lives at Brocket Hall, Alfred!’

‘Will the Prince Consort be accompanying you?’

‘No.’

‘But he knows you’re going?’

‘Not as such.’

‘Do you think it would be wise to inform him?’

‘I’m sure he will find out in due course. Let us get going. Inform the carriage drivers and stables. It is a long way.’

And with that she paced out ahead of him and went to wait in the courtyard.

The carriage seemed to take an age to arrive. She bit her lip in frustration. An almost childish glee was coursing through her at the thought of seeing him again. He had been at the event Albert had arranged the other day; the first time she had seen him for months, and immediately she had been cosseted in a warm balm of familiar sensation, of comfort and ease.

He had looked as handsome as always, she thought, the same insouciant manner, the same quixotic smile. He had complimented her and it had made her react in a way that only now, after marriage, she understood properly.

Her breathing steadied. She understood. She understood what her feelings had been for him before, which perhaps she had not entirely at the time. When he looked at her in the way he did, his large eyes penetrating her very soul, she now knew what that meant, how that twisting, turning inside could be relieved. She knew what they could be, what they could lead to. She would meet him today as a woman, not an unformed child-Queen, a flighty, reactionary girl needing guidance and nurture. She had grown and she understood.

The carriage at last arrived and Lord Alfred hurried round to help her in.

They barely spoke on the long journey. Victoria sat in silence, staring from the windows, thinking of nothing but her former mentor, her dearest friend and companion. She replayed their conversations, remembered the moments of touch between them, the way he had kissed her after her wedding.

At last they turned up the long drive towards Brocket Hall. She caught a glimpse of it as they approached, its fine structure, dark and elegant, rising up from the verdant green around it. She smiled to herself. It was so very him. Dark and elegant.

‘I shall go and inform them of your arrival,’ said Alfred, stepping out of the carriage.

‘No. Simply find out where he is but … no … do not have them tell him I am here. Not yet.’

Alfred looked at her, his lips pursing. He was not certain, but he would do as he was commanded. He turned and went up to the house, returning shortly afterwards.

‘Lord Melbourne is in the glasshouses in the south gardens. He spends most of his days there now, apparently.’

She smiled softly. Of course he did. She pictured an image of herself, orchids adorning her breast, being turned by him, held in his arms, gazing up at that beautiful face.

‘Then let us go to the glasshouses.’

They walked around the large house to the gardens. There, on the far side, was a large glasshouse. She could see the inside, lush and verdant, with exotic leaves and fronds stretching up. It excited her, but not as much as the anticipation of what else was inside. They approached and stopped, looking across at it.

‘He will be in there, Ma’am.’

She stood with Lord Alfred and looked. A figure walked through the glasshouse. She recognised him immediately. Her heart leapt within her, her belly pranced, and now she could not ignore why. How easy it was to rediscover.

‘Lord Alfred, I think perhaps I will see Lord Melbourne alone.’

He hesitated, but she would not be deterred.

‘Are you certain, Ma’am?’

‘Yes. We have much to catch up on. It would bore you. I am certain they will entertain you quite splendidly in the house.’

‘If you are certain, Ma’am, then …’ He bowed and took his leave, not quickly, but he soon turned around a corner leading to the hall.

Victoria turned her attention back to the glasshouse and inhaled deeply. She walked towards it.

It had been a long time since she had entered his world. The last time she had come to Brocket she had left with a broken heart and a life seemingly never to be happy. How different it was now, but at the same time, that feeling she had carried with her that day, of longing and hope, seemed to reassert itself again. She opened the door of the glasshouse as quietly as she could and walked in.

The heat hit her first and then the aroma. It was rich, exotic, intoxicating. It sank into her and beguiled her, making her smile with wonder. How alluring, how different to the calm coolness of the palace, of her court … of her husband.

This was his world, his life, and yet, for the first time properly, here they were equal. He was no more bound to her now than any other subject. She walked through, enjoying the richness of the air and sights around her, delaying the moment she would find him, revelling in the anticipation.

In the middle of the glasshouse was a potting area. Someone was kneeling down, his back turned. All seemed suddenly completely and utterly well with the world. Pregnancy was forgotten, quarrels were forgotten, miles away, banished. Here, it was just him and her. Just as it had always been.

She watched him for a while: his back broad in a dark silk waistcoat, his strong arms pushing soil into the pots, his hands nimble, the long fingers dirty. It seemed almost rude to disturb him.

‘Lord Melbourne.’

He spun at the voice. He recognised it immediately and stood, his eyes wide with shock. She laughed a little at his expression – wide-eyed, mouth open, but still perfectly, gloriously handsome. His hair was a little greyer, but still full and dark and brushed in that splendid way that gave him a slightly roguish air.

‘Your Majesty!’ he stuttered, staring unblinking at her.

‘Indeed. I thought it was high time I visited your renowned glasshouses, Lord Melbourne.’

‘Your Majesty … I …!’ he exclaimed again, glancing around, looking at the pots and spades and garden mess as if it would magically vanish if he stared at it enough. ‘Forgive my … my …’

‘Your disarray?’ she offered. He looked at her and they both remembered the first time she had visited him unannounced. Like then, he dropped his head and laughed and, like then, it entranced her.

‘You spend most days here, I am told.’

He was still struggling to find meaning to the situation he found himself in. ‘Yes, I … I suppose I do.’

‘No wonder you are keeping St Chrysostom waiting.’

‘Well … he can wait.’

She laughed again.

Melbourne looked around disconsolately, his hands grappling for order. ‘Ma’am … I can offer you nowhere to sit. Shall we return to the hall?’

‘No! No, I am quite content here. It is … quite wonderful. What green fingers you have.’

It was his turn to laugh. He held up his hands. ‘Hardly green at the moment, Ma’am, more filthy and in need of a damn good wash.’

She laughed. He had sworn in front of her, language he clearly used with ease now. It spoke of his new world away from court gossip and restrained diplomacy. She did not mind and he didn’t even notice he had done so.

He picked up a cloth and scrubbed as much dirt off his hands as he could. She took a step closer, her eyes fixed on his hands and forearms. He had rolled up his sleeves and exposed them. How strong and assured they still looked.

‘How are you … Lord M?’

He darted his eyes to hers on hearing her call him that. She was not sure that was who he was any longer, but she needed that familiarity, that reminder.

‘I’m quite well, Ma’am, thank you.’

‘It was so very good to see you again the other night. So very good.’

‘Thank you for the invitation, Ma’am. A splendid evening.’

‘I detected a slight cynicism on your part of the purpose of the evening. You did not consort much with those involved in the sciences.’

‘It is not something I am much informed on, Ma’am, I admit … I prefer …’ He indicated his plants.

‘Orchids?’

‘Yes, Ma’am. Orchids.’ They looked at one another and time was as nothing. Growing old, getting married, giving birth, it all stopped. Just him and her.

She felt herself blushing and glanced around to relieve it. ‘I am sorry, Lord M, I have disturbed you from your work.’

‘Not at all. I was merely planting some seeds.’

‘How exciting.’

He chuckled. ‘Hardly that, Ma’am.’

‘But I am intrigued all the same. Would you care to show me?’

He laughed again, unsure how to process the sudden arrival of the Queen in a world that was entirely his. But he was not put out. ‘Of course. Look.’ He knelt down and picked up a tiny seed in his hand. She knelt down beside him and studied it. ‘This is an orchid seed. I put it in here with this soil, a special mixture to ensure it was everything it needs to thrive, pack it down, and then after weeks and weeks, if things are right, if you nurture and maintain it properly, you will have the most exquisite, beautiful flowers. Just from this tiny little thing.’

‘It is quite remarkable. And it doesn’t even make a noise as it grows.’

He frowned in bewilderment. ‘However do you mean, Ma’am?’

‘I am tasked with nurturing and maintaining a child and yet it makes the most frightful noises whilst I am doing so. I find it quite intolerable.’

‘But the needs of a child are such that we are happy to indulge them, Ma’am.’

‘Most of the time … but not always.’

He smiled gently and stood himself again. She did too and found herself a mere foot or so apart from him.

‘I am forgetting myself, how rude of me. I have not inquired after you.’ He stared down at her. ‘How are you, Ma’am? You look very well, I must say … very well.’ Again his eyes met hers, and again, that was all that mattered. She understood.

‘I am well, Lord M, except …’

‘Ma’am?’

‘Life is different now. Life with marriage and a child …’

‘It is how it should be, Ma’am.’

‘I enjoy it for the most part, but … there are frustrations. I felt them very acutely today, that is why I wished to … get away. That is why I came here.’

‘I am flattered you thought of Brocket Hall, Ma’am. Frustrations were always going to happen. Changing circumstances, even those for the best, will always bring new challenges with them.’

As ever, he calmed her, his words, his steady voice, even if he could not take away her burdens, he could make them sound tolerable.

‘I argued with Albert … again. We argue frequently.’

His face grew serious but he spoke straight enough. ‘That does happen in marriage, Ma’am.’

‘It happened in yours?’ She blurted it out and wished she hadn’t. He looked startled and swallowed, averting his eyes.

‘Well … yes … but … my marriage was unusual, Ma’am.’

‘I was worried that you would be unhappy the other evening due to the presence of Ada Lovelace.’

‘Why is that, Ma’am?’

‘Well, isn’t she the daughter of … that poet?’ She feared he would not want to hear Byron’s name, and so she didn’t say it.

He smiled softly. ‘She is indeed, Ma’am, but I am pleased to note that she has inherited none of her father’s less desirable qualities. She is a fine and brilliant lady. Time does move on, Ma’am, and it heals wounds. I try not to bear grudges.’

‘You always were the most noble of gentlemen, Lord M.’

‘I am glad you have such faith in me, Ma’am. There are others who would disagree.’

They fell silent for a moment, not an awkward one, silences between them could never be awkward, but she waited for his further query. ‘Have you resolved your argument with the Prince Consort, Ma’am?’

‘Not entirely.’

‘But you will.’

‘I suppose … at the moment I lack the motivation to do so.’ Her tone became heavy. He took a slight step into her. She became acutely aware of his height and the broad cut of his shoulders. ‘I find palace life quite stifling again, and the balance I must find between motherhood and duty is not easy.’

‘Which do you prefer?’

‘Oh, duty, most certainly! I am not sure I am cut out for motherhood at all. And yet that is all that is expected of me, it seems.’

‘They are anxious that the throne will be secure for the future, that is all. They disassociate that need from the human who must shoulder the burden.’

She sighed. ‘You are always so wise, Lord M. How I have missed your wisdom. How I have missed your calmness, your words. How I have missed you!’ She felt tears prickling at her eyes and dropped her head. ‘Oh, it is so hot in here!’ She scrabbled for the ribbons on her bonnet and took it off, placing it on an upturned pot beside her. Then she stood and breathed in, closing her eyes and exhaling the deepest sigh.

He stepped up and, gently and entirely naturally, took her hands in his. Immediately, she was soothed, immediately she was reassured by the strength and dexterity of his fingers. If he could hold her then all would be well.

‘Victoria …’

She turned her eyes up to him. He was looking at her not as advisor or subject, but as a man.

He smiled gently down at her. ‘I have missed you too, you must know that. I cannot bear to see you troubled.’

‘Why do you think I chose to come here? Sometimes I feel yet again that there is no one who listens, no one who truly understands, not even Albert. You would always listen to me so attentively, but more than that, never was there condescension or presumption. You allowed me to simply be me. I am not sure that, despite all I share with Albert – and I love him and know that he loves me, I assure you – but I am not sure that our relationship is as simple as that. There seems to always be some sort of need for leverage, some sort of intent. I never felt that way with you, you treated me always with such grace and dignity.’

He paused momentarily and she read a melancholy sincerity in his expression. ‘You know why.’

‘Because you are the loveliest of men.’

His smile deepened but the sadness in his eyes grew more pronounced. He drew in a slow breath. ‘You asked me if I was well, and … I am, yet … my life has changed profoundly. I am content for the most part. I have my books, my writing … and my plants. Yet … I will never again be as happy as I was when I worked with you. You are someone who inspires the deepest affection in others … the deepest love. I hope that, by telling you that, you understand how deeply you are valued by me, by your family … and by your husband. You love him and he loves you, it is plain to all, and that is right and proper.’

‘But … he is not you … and sometimes … sometimes I wish he were.’

He smiled ruefully, ‘One cannot manufacture the perfect person. There will always be aspects of another that one finds appealing at different times.’

‘Seeing you again has made me understand my feelings for you, both before and now.’

He glanced away, but still held her hands. ‘Victoria, I would urge you to think about what you are saying.’

‘I do think, you know that. You know more than most how my mind works. Now that I have married and become a woman in all the ways I can be, things from my present and my past are much clearer. I understand it now … need … desire.’

‘You always did.’

‘No, not properly. I felt it, certainly, but I didn’t understand it. But I know I felt it because … I felt it for you and it is only now that I understand what that meant.’

‘Victoria …’ he murmured again, but he did not release her hands. She moved in closer still.

‘When I saw you the other night at the Palace, I understood because I felt it again, so profoundly. You were the first to make me feel that way and … although I feel that for another too … it does not mean that I do not still have those feelings … for you.’

His mouth lifted at the corners. ‘I am deeply flattered, but … the thing about being an adult, Ma’am, is that … even though we have these feelings, we are capable of deciding not to act on them.’

‘But before, I wouldn’t have known how to act on them. It seemed so wild, so terrifying almost, and you were always so calm and measured … that alone enabled me to control them.’

He said nothing, but his thumb continued its steady stroking along her fingers. She looked down at them. ‘I used to dream of you holding my hands. I used to remember that time you did so when I came here, and every day when you came in to kiss my hand for an audience, I would long for it, I would crave it.’

‘You think I did not want that too?’

She stared up at him, searching for his truth. ‘I didn’t then. I thought you rejected me. Perhaps after the costume ball I realised, but then … Albert arrived and everything changed.’

‘Indeed.’

‘But you … did not reject me, did you … William?’

Their gazes burned between them. ‘No. I did not. Like with many things during my tenure with you … I had no choice.’

‘But it is not just desire, William … it is love.’

He raised his eyes and met hers.

‘I wish you to know that, William. I loved you, completely and absolutely and … part of me loves you still.’

He closed his eyes against it. ‘Victoria, please.’

‘I am sorry, but … I feel that now I can be truthful, that I must be truthful.’

He met her gaze again and, holding it intensely, declared, ‘Then … you should know that … I love you too. I always have … and I will love you until my dying day.’

‘William, my darling.’ Her eyes were wet with tears. ‘It is only now that it all makes sense – love, need, desire. I know now what I wanted and seeing you again I realise that, despite Albert and despite children … I still want it.’

He looked down at her, his hands still enclosing hers. ‘I told you when I saw you the other day that you had only changed for the better. I meant that profoundly, with every ounce of my adoration. You have grown into a remarkable woman, just as I knew you would … and the most beautiful one. And I still …’

‘What?’ She stepped in so that her skirts were pressed against his legs, so that her breasts nearly touched him.

He staggered in a breath. ‘I still want it too. I have never stopped wanting it.’

‘William …’ she whispered and turned her head fully up to him, dampening her lips, giving him her acceptance.

He stared down and brought his head closer, closer.

She had never felt desire like it, that throbbing, churning sensation which could only be relieved through touch. With her husband it was permissible, expected, and so now, with him, with this man whom she had loved and who loved her back, she felt it so acutely it made her dizzy.

Closer, his lips nearly brushing hers …

There was a sudden loud clanking as the door of the glasshouse was opened. ‘Your Majesty? The butler would like to know if Lord Melbourne requires tea.’

Lord Alfred called loudly and they heard his footsteps approaching. William and Victoria pulled apart quickly, putting distance between them. William picked up the cloth and wiped his hands concertedly.

‘Ah! There you are!’ said Alfred turning into the potting area. ‘What a magnificent glasshouse you have here, Lord Melbourne. A splendid array of specimens!’

William cleared his throat. ‘Thank you. Yes, well, one has to fill one’s time somehow.’

‘Indeed. Would you like to take tea in the hall I am to ask you?’

He blinked and tried to gather his thoughts. ‘I suppose … perhaps, yes. Ma’am, would you care for tea?’

Victoria glanced around, forlorn, confused, but knowing that it was enough. What had been said, the desires that had been voiced but not executed … it was enough. ‘I … I think perhaps I should be returning, Lord M. Thank you for your kind offer and I am sorry to call on you unannounced, it was terribly presumptuous of me.’

‘Not at all.’ He inclined his head to her.

Alfred looked askance. ‘Are you sure, Ma’am? We’ve only just arrived. It is a long journey here and back.’

‘I realise that but … I should return to the palace and to my husband and child. They will be inquiring after me.’

She turned, a little flummoxed, and moved into Melbourne again, looking up at him. ‘Thank you. Once again, you have eased my anxieties immeasurably. Sometimes, it is good to simply know that … one can still draw on the past, one can use it to make sense of the present.’

‘Yes, Ma’am. I do that all the time.’

And at that, she stretched up onto her tiptoes and planted the softest kiss on his high cheekbones. He smelt of cedars and apples. She drew back and a smile of the deepest contentment passed between them.

‘Goodbye, Lord M.’

‘Goodbye, Ma’am.’  


**Author's Note:**

> Don't hate me, I told you it was realistic. I had to write something after the emotional onslaught I have felt in the last few days after the release of stills and images and I wanted to do it before Episode 2 of the new series airs. This will probably be meaningless after it's broadcast, but I had to do it. 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed. Let me know your thoughts on this if you can. And, if you want to indulge and relieve your Vicbourne angst further, come and join our Facebook page, For the love of Vicbourne. 
> 
> LL x


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